


Fixed Point

by vaulkner



Category: Bleach
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 21:42:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2483456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaulkner/pseuds/vaulkner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Are you just going to stare?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fixed Point

She's home and he knows it as easily as breathing.  
  
They've known each other so long as this point that they're attuned to each other's energy, presence,  _spirit_  (if one were so inclined to believe in things like that). Beyond growing up together, their lives have been intertwined in so many ways it's difficult to find the roots of where they both started. There were some things, of course, that were completely characteristic of their individual personalities. She, for example, would always be the one to leave– sometimes for prolonged periods, and sometimes for brief stints. It was only fitting that she took the form of a cat.  
  
As for him, his genius had always put him on  _this side_  of eccentric. People saw him as whacky and not always the most reliable personality, but looked to him anyway as no one else could fill his shoes. When it came to him and Yoruichi though, she knew he wasn't going anywhere. That his unreliable face was just something he wanted to encourage people to believe. In their relationship, he was a constant, even more so now that he had his shop. Urahara remained as a fixed point, watching and waiting as things passed him by.  
  
It's this stability that brings Yoruichi back to his shop (his house), and while she'll never admit it (even though he knows already), she's grateful for the constantly open door.   
  
Here, she can relax. And she does, as he finds her with her with her back turned, sitting cross-legged on a pillow with a loose robe on. The silk fabric has slid off her shoulders, leaving them bare. She's still got her hair tied up in a high ponytail, and the tip of her long, long hair pools on the floor. There's a stillness as he watches her from the door frame as she quietly sips her tea, the china making a slight  _clink_  as she sets it down.   
  
"Are you just going to stare?"   
  
She's still not looking at him, but her tone implies  _hello, come here_ – he doesn't hesitate to step into the room, shutting the door behind him. He'd shed his sandals a while ago (and his hat), so his steps are near silent as he strides over to her.   
  
No words pass between them.  
  
While his persona to almost everyone else is one of a bumbling, chatty shopkeeper, that isn't really who he is. Not that he doesn't like talking (Yoruichi says less than him on a normal basis), but he doesn't feel the need to fill the space here. He doesn't need to clarify something or to even give her a vocal greeting. She already knows he's glad she's back, glad to know that she's safe.   
  
Instead, he pauses behind her, leaning down to place a hand on the juncture between her neck and shoulder. At this, she finally tilts her head to look up at him, gold eyes illuminating oddly in the dim lighting. A fine brow arches, silently asking if he's going to stand there all day or if he's going to do something. Quirking a smile, he moves to sit behind her, both hands settling on her shoulders as he slowly works out the kinks in her muscles. They have a silent conversation as the minutes pass, and soon she's paying less attention to the cooling cup of tea, leaning back into him.   
  
She lets him wrap his arms around her middle, loosely, her own hands (so small in comparison) settling on top of his. He sets his chin on top of her head, and with that, they've reached their own personal equilibrium.   
  
They're both thinking  _welcome home._


End file.
